


a bless and a curse

by writingdice



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Body Horror, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy AU, Gaslighting, Gore, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 03:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingdice/pseuds/writingdice
Summary: “Twins are to be feared, they are bridges from our world onto the next. Twins are an omen of destruction.” How would the Kingdom react if they were to know that their Queen had conceived twins? Better if they never knew. And so, Stanley was hidden away. Kept isolated in a room with only visits from Stanford… and a friend that only comes at night when everyone else is asleep.





	1. Chapter 1

Stanley sighed as he watched the ocean from his bedroom window, wondering when his brother would be back from his studies. His small hands were outside, feeling the breeze and spatter of the waves beneath him.

In his lap laid a forgotten book. Stan didn’t need to read it again anyway. He had read this same book a hundred times, along with the others inside his room. Stan would tell Ford to bring him more books if he was really to stay inside this room for a year more.

Ford had promised that he would only have to stay for one more year, then he would be able to go outside and play with him by the beach. Stan really wanted to feel the sand beneath his feet. Ford had told him how it feels and how swimming in the ocean could be fun but that it would be very dangerous for Stan because he didn’t know how to swim.

Sometimes he ventured outside of his room, but he never went far. Even if he had never met his father, Ford had told him to stay away from him and to never go looking for him. That he would only get in trouble and the wrath of the King was not something to take lightly.

The door is unlocked right now. It would be easy for him to sneak away and go to finally feel the sand of the beach for himself.

He does not leave the room. He waits for Stanford to come and talk to him about his lessons and the people who live in the castle.

He sighs again as he closes the book and puts it away on the desk near the window, the hours continue to go by slowly. He stands up and walks around his room only to end up sitting down again in the same spot. 

Stanley is considering taking a nap when he hears steps down his hallway. He recognizes the sound of his brother’s steps and he waits in excited anticipation for the door to open. Ford knocks and steps in with a tray full of food and a pitcher with water.

Stan walks to him and takes the tray from his hands, he sits on his bed with it and starts eating some of it. He hears Ford chuckle and sit down on his previous spot.

“Greetings, brother”, he says as he passes Stan a cup from the desk. He rolls his eyes as he smiles with warmth, “why are you still on your nightgown? You do realize that it’s the afternoon, right?”

“Ford, there is no point in me changing clothes. I never leave this room and you’re the only one who ever comes here, anyway!”

They stay quiet after that. Stanley eats his food and drinks water in silence. He looks up to see Stanford smiling softly.

“What?”, he asks with a full mouth at which Ford makes a face of disgust. Stanley smiles and opens his mouth to show the food in it.

“That’s disgusting! What’s wrong with you?”, Ford tells him as he laughs. Stan swallows and laughs along.

“I found a new book that I thought you would like. It’s about boats and navegation”

Stan beams up at him and they spend the rest of the afternoon reading until Stanford has to go back to his lessons.

* * *

 

“Stanford”

“What is it, Stanley?”

“…I need to ask you something”

“Well… go on, ask”

“…Why do I have to stay in this room?”

“…”

“…Stanford?”

“…I don’t know. Don’t ask me that again”

They do not speak more that afternoon and soon Ford leaves again to attend his sword lessons. Stanley sits on his window and daydreams about ships and endless beaches full of sand and games. He daydreams that Ford is still there with him in the room and talks to the air.

* * *

 

That night he has a nightmare. 

He wakes up startled and breathing heavily. His whole body shakes and his throat is painfully closed. Stan wants out of this room, he wants Ford to hold him close and tell him everything was alright.

He’s at the door before he notices and he’s trying to open it but it’s locked, still, in his panic he keeps trying even though deep inside he knows it’s useless. Stan hits the door with his shoulder and pounds on it with his fists.

Stan wants to be with Ford. Stan wants  _out_  of this room.

He crumbles down infront of the door. In between sobs he whimpers his brother’s name in hopes that maybe he will hear him and come to help him. 

But the familiar footsteps never come that night.

* * *

 

Stanford is special. Not only because he has The Six Fingers that the wise men of the King say that are good omens and a blessing to their family name.

He’s the only one in the Pines Royal Family that has been able to control and study magic and magical creatures. AlthoughThe Queen can see the future, her vision is limited and her predictions do not always come true. Stanford can make the earth bend and make rain fall at his will. He’s quick at learning too, any kind of Earthly Magic he wants to learn, he can. Which is why every magician in the Kingdom is so eager to come teach the Pines Prince.

Other Kingdoms offer them lots of things so that they can be allies, anything to prevent future wars with such a powerful soon-to-be King.

Stanley is not special, he’s not smart and he’s not as quick as Stanford when it comes to learning.

Stanley is not special. He sits on his window and draws the sea, because the sea has always been there and it feels like an old friend; with it’s crushing power and raw beauty that Stan has admired from a distance.

* * *

 

“Stanford, am I cursed?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why am I locked away in this room?”

“…”

“…Stanford?”

“…I’m sorry, Stan. I-I have to attend my astronomy lessons.”

“N-no! No, I’m sorry. I won’t ask again, please stay”

“I’ll come back later, I promise”

“…Please don’t leave”

“…I’m sorry”

Stanford does come back later with some candy and other kinds of food. Stanley doesn’t ask again and he gets to eat them as a reward. Ford hugs him and kisses his forehead. Stanley feels safe inside his arms.

* * *

 

Stanley gets to hear, every year, the parties they make in honor of his brother’s (and his) birthday. This year he dresses up in the only suit he has and sits by the window with a barely wrapped gift for his brother; a painting of a boat that Stan did one afternoon.

He waits for Stanford to come so he can give it to him. He waits for a very long time but he never comes.

Stanley stands alone with the gift in his hands. Another year has passed and he’s still inside this room. Had Ford lied to him? Stan refuses to think that his brother would ever lie or betray him. Perhaps the curse on him has not been lifted. Perhaps his own existence is a curse. After all, isn’t the number 13 of bad luck?

* * *

 

That night he has a nightmare where Ford had forgotten about him and he spent years on his own and a thousand voices boomed and echoed on the walls, a thousand voices yelling for his death and demise.

Stan sat on his bed, freely sobbing knowing no one would come.

But then… he felt a hand caressing his hair.

“What’s wrong, prince? Having trouble sleeping?”, he looked up to see a man he had never seen before. A man dressed in a dark suit and with eyes as bright as candles.

He stayed shocked in place not knowing what to do, he stopped breathing as panic took a hold of him. Should he try to make it for the door? Should he scream so loud that the entire castle wakes up?

“Do not be afraid. I have no intention to harm you, your Highness”, the stranger said as he took a couple of steps away from him and bowed his head. Stan couldn’t help it, he snorted even though he was still afraid and nervous.

“Don’t call me that”, Stan said as he scratched his chin, “I am no royalty”.

“Of course you are! You’re the Prince Stanley of the Pines Royal Family”, the man said with a smile and a laugh in his voice.

“Well, it doesn’t feel like I’m part of them”, Stan grumbled as he looked around trying to avoid eye contact.

“Hmmm, perhaps you’re right”, the man said as he straightened, “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is William Cipher, but you can call me Bill”

“Nice to meet you, I guess”, Stanley didn’t know what to do, hadn’t Ford told him that when you meet someone you should shake hands with them? He couldn’t recall, it had been a long time ago. But this man seemed… nice and kind.

He smiled and felt like this was the start of something great.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford notices something strange on his brother’s behavior and learns about The Nightmare Realm.

There was something strange about his brother, something different about the way he normally greeted him and the topics he talked about. Unusually small differences that shouldn’t have bothered him as much as they did. 

Stanley smiled more, he got easily distracted and slept through the day. Stanford couldn’t quite understand what could have possibly changed him so much. At first he thought that Stan could have fallen ill, but that didn’t seem probable as he couldn’t remember a time when his brother had ever been sick.

His brother wasn’t mad at him for not visiting him on the night of their birthday, he had explained himself and his duties as prince, and Stan had only smiled sadly and said he understood.

Stan’s latest painting hung above his desk on the study room. In Ford’s opinion, it really was one of the best paintings his brother had ever done; in it, a strong and beautifully constructed ship battled against big waves and wind, and yet, the sky painted was light blue with white enormous clouds and the sun shining through them.

Ford sighed and stared at the painting with an open book on his desk His afternoon studies disrupted by his concerns about Stanley. Which, to be honest with himself, did not make much sense; as long as Stan remained inside the room, there simply was no reason to worry about his safety or well being.

Stan’s room is bigger than a servant’s quarters which gives him enough space to stretch and walk around, it has two shelves completely jammed with books that Ford had carefully selected for him, even access to painting supplies and a telescope to watch the boats sailing in the day and the stars at night. His brother had everything he could ever need to keep him occupied and entertained through the day.

He forced himself to stop thinking about Stanley, telling himself that he was safe and well, that worrying about him was unnecesary and kept studying.

* * *

 

“Energy moves around everything. You see, your Highness, every single existing object has magical energy, either residual or of its own.”, said one of Ford’s professors, one of many, many more.

”What we call magic is the ability to manipulate and transform this energy. Some can manipulate it in small ways like transforming a rock into dust or being able to create ice from water inside a glass; others, like yourself, are capable of manipulating it in bigger ways like freezing an entire lake or accelerating the growing of a tree”, he took notes and nodded along to what he was hearing, concentrated in understanding his abilities.

“Along the years there has been many people who have been born with extraordinary abilities to manipulate this energy. However, your Highness, you are the first person in record to have been born with such strong connection to the energy of our world. All existing energy from this plane can be and is, quite literally, at the palm of your hand, my Prince”, the professor said with a small smile, Ford could feel the envy on his voice. He expressed his gratitude towards the compliment and wrote a note for himself to research about the others.

As he was finishing what he wrote, he noticed something that struck him odd.

“If I may ask”, he said as he looked at his professor directly in the eyes, “what do you mean by ‘all existing energy from this plane’?”

His professor’s expression shifted from composed to apprehensive and somewhat startled. The change made only Ford more curious and hungry for knowledge.

“Uh, you see, your Highness…”, he started but stopped as he looked around and made sure that nobody else was listening. He walked to a shelf behind Ford, and started pulling out some books. He looked inside them and discarded one or two till he found what he had been looking for.

He walked towards him and laid it on Ford’s desk. He stood infront of his student again without looking at Ford’s face.

“It is time you learned about this, anyway”, he sighed and crossed his arms behind his back, “you see, your Highness, our existence is not limited to this physical world. As you must already know, we exist both in matter and spirit. Our mind, or spirit, exists in what we call ‘The Mindscape’. Each person has a plane of existence of their own, we all exist in more than just one place”

Stanford heard with attention, forgetting to take notes. Entranced by the possibilities this new knowledge held and what it meant to his own existence.

“So our existence is multiple”, Ford whispered in awe. The professor seemed satisfied by this comment and smiled at him.

“Yes, your Highness”, he answered and then looked away, “I must admit however that I am not quite well versed on this subject. I apologize for not being able to teach you more about this. Nevertheless, this book can teach you the basics of how The Mindscape works, your Highness”, he said as he pointed to the one in Ford’s desk.

“I think with this our lesson of today’s over, if you will excuse me”, Stanford waved him away, ignoring him over opening the book and starting to read.

* * *

 

His fascination grew and grew with each page he read. His mind soaking up everything and wanting more.

By the time he snapped out of it he realized night was falling and he hadn’t visited his brother all day.

* * *

 

“Stanley”

“What is it, Sixer?”

“I need to ask you something”

“Well, then ask, you don’t have all day”

“Did something happen? Are you feeling alright?”

“…What? Why are you asking that?”

“… Oh, forget it, it’s nothing. I’m probably just worrying too much. I’m sorry for bothering you”

“…If you say so”

“…Is that a new painting?”

* * *

 

He stayed up all night reading the book his professor had showed him. When he finished it, he went to the castle’s library and looked up for any other book that may have relevant information of The Mindscape.

He found ten books; in a library with a total of more than three thousand books, which to say the least, was a bit disappointing and at the same time it made the whole ordeal… even more luring.

It was like treasure hunting and he had found a pot full of gold. He spent weeks reading, writing his own observations, doing magic experiments by trying to learn how to manipulate the energy from The Mindscape on his own.

* * *

 

And then he found it.

What lied beyond The Mindscape. Where all things that haunt the dreams of children live; where every monster with gnashing teeth, every shadow with glowing eyes, every ghostly laugh and whisper…

The Nightmare Realm.

A completely different plane of existence with only terrifying tales of a small number of witnesses, vague legends and myths as proof of its existence… and yet, what little reading material he could find about, did not treat it as folklore or superstitions. In a particular page he discovered a drawing that captivated him and awoke a feeling of fear deep inside him…

The drawing of a triangle with a single eye, engulfed in flames and chaos.

Shivers traveled down his spine and even though he could not fully understand what it was, its origins, or meaning. He felt exhilarated.

He couldn’t wait to tell Stan about his findings.

* * *

 

“The Nightmare Realm?”

“I know it sounds like a story to scare small children, but I know its real, Stan!”

“…So what do you plan to do?”

Small pause. A deep breath.

“I want to find a way to enter it”

“You want to go… where nightmares are real?”

“Its far more than just that, Stanley. If I really am as powerful as everyone says then I may be able to manipulate the energy there. Who knows how strong that energy could be!”

A sigh. A big smile.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I mean, nobody else could possibly do this but you, Ford!”

* * *

 

Stanley sat on his window gazing at the sea far below his feet. The waves were gently splashing against the cliff his room was carved in, bringing the familiar scent of salt and sand with them. The moon shining and the stars scintillating high above like a million bright candles that reflected against the darkness of the water. Stan sighed, feeling calm and at peace.

“Nice night, ain’t it, Prince?”

Stan looked behind him towards the voice and smiled at Bill.

“Aye”, he said and climbed down to sit on his bed, “you know, a minute more and I would have thought you wouldn’t come tonight”

Bill’s glowing eyes focused on him and he walked slowly towards Stan with a smile.

“Why, I’d never”, Bill said as he faked an offended tone, “Prince, you hurt me so with such assumptions”

Stanley just snorted and laughed in response. Bill stopped by the desk, taking something that was on it.

“I’d never seen this one before, did your brother bring it for you?”, Bill asked as he walked with a book in his hand. He sat down beside Stan on his bed flipping pages with a bored look on his face.

“…What book?”, Stan asked confused, but as he took a closer look at it he remembered with a soft sigh and a chuckle, “Oh, that knucklehead must have forgotten it here when he came to visit me this afternoon”

Bill hummed in response and continued flipping the pages without much visible reading.

“He came in here, bustling around about this place… this thing he wanted to find…”, as Stan talked he got the feeling that maybe Bill wasn’t completely listening to him, so he stopped talking.

“What did he wanted to find?”, Bill asked as he closed the book and looked directly at Stan. He fidgeted a little at the attention but felt pleased to know that Bill had been hearing him.

“Ford, uh, wanted to find a place called ‘The Mindscape’”

As soon as Stan stopped talking the atmosphere seemed to have changed, it felt… heavier. Suddenly he could hear the thumping beat of his heart, his legs shaking with an uncontrollable impulse to dart for the door and his hands clenching and unclenching with an energy he had never felt before.

“The Mindscape! Now, that’s a place I hadn’t heard about in a while!”, Bill said with a smirk as he crossed his legs. 

“If your brother really is trying to find it with this book then he’s doomed to fail”, he laughed cruelly.

“Hey, that’s my brother you’re talking about!”, Stan said irritated and upset at his friend’s cruel taunting. 

“He’s the smartest and most powerful wizard that has ever been born in this and all Kingdoms! So you better watch your tongue”, he concluded with a glare.

“Calm down, Prince. I was only joking”, Bill said as he put up his hands in an unshaken manner.

“Your brother is quite an impressive human, I must admit”

Stan visibly puffed out his chest in pride and smiled.

“But not as impressive and remarkable as you”

Stan stayed shocked in place as Bill took his hand and kissed gently the back with what appeared to be love and devotion.

“Bill, what… what are you doing?”, Stan said, feeling embarrassed and… distressed, but he could not understand why.

“You are truly something else, Prince Stanley”

“Well, I… I don’t know about that”, Stan mumbled and looked down. Bill barked out a laugh and smiled widely as he made eye contact with Stan.

“Of course you don’t! I mean, look where they keep you!”, he gestured to Stanley’s room, “You basically live in the basement of this castle, completely cut off from the outside! This is hardly a suitable room for a servant, even less for a prince, and yet here you are! Have you never wondered why?”

The shift on the conversation had been so abrupt, Stan was completely at a loss of words.

“It’s because you’re special, Stanley, more special than your brother and much more powerful”

He knows what he is and what he is not. And he definitely isn’t special like Ford.

“You don’t believe me, huh?”, Bill smirked as Stan shook his head. 

“Well, then answer me: why do they keep you here? Why only  _you_ and not your brother as well?”, he whispered in Stan’s ear.

Stan, shocked and hesitant, was left speechless.

“It’s because they are afraid, my dear. They are afraid of what you are capable of”

And then Bill was gone, and Stanley was left alone once again with what Bill said echoing inside his mind.

* * *

 

Doubt invaded his every wake second.

_Could it be true? What if Bill was lying?_

* * *

 

“…Stanford”, Stanley said in a soft voice that was almost a whisper. They were sitting on the floor of his room with the warm breeze of summer coming in through the open window. Stan had a sketchbook on his lap and a pencil on his hand . Ford was reading more about The Mindscape, not really paying much attention to his twin.

“The other day I was just wondering…”, he felt ridiculous but he really wanted to know, “Ford, do you  _actually_  know or have an idea why I have to stay in this room?”

He waited patiently for him to answer, but Stanford pretended to have not listened to his question and continued to read.

* * *

 

_…What if Stanford was lying?_

* * *

 

Ford started travelling a lot, he would always tell Stan the dates of his departure and arrival. He would always promise him to come back with a kiss on the forehead and a reassuring smile.

Stan would always try to convince him not to leave, but Ford would tell him he had duties and responsabilites he had to attend to as a prince. That he needed to study and know more about this place he wanted to find, as it was his duty as heir to the throne.

And Stan would let him go. Watching him through his window when he traveled by sea on the royal barque. Feeling empty as he watched it with his telescope, growing smaller and smaller in the distance; leaving the safe shores of their home, away from him.

Stanley would never admit it outloud… but he felt envy, and he was terribly upset with the unfairness of it. 

_Why should Stanford be allowed to go as he pleased? Why wasn’t he confined to a room too? Wasn’t Stanley heir to the throne as well?_

_…And, why did Ford felt this place, this thing that obsessed and intrigued him, was more important than his own brother?_

* * *

 

Ford rode by horseback towards a castle looming over a hill; the path was surrounded by overgrown shrubs and trees so tall they blocked almost all the sunlight, leaving him traveling through darkness in the middle of the day. 

According to his most trustworthy source, Fiddleford McGucket, the Northwest castle held an extensive amount of knowledge about The Mindscape. It had been abandoned for centuries; however, he couldn’t trust it’d be truly empty, so he kept his left hand on his sword and his attention focused on any suspicious sounds.

Looking back on his decisions, he really should have listened to his friend’s advice; he should have brought his guards with him. He dismissed his mistakes and focused on the task at hand. When he finally saw it he left out a sigh of relief.  It did not look as frightening as he first had thought.

The Northwest castle was more ruins than anything. A big crumbling structure that laid forgotten and looked over the whole valley, covered by undergrowth from a thousand years worth of neglect and surrounded by tall, bare oak trees that may have once been proud and strong, but that now looked meek and dying.

Inside was dark and smelled of putrefaction and smoke, pieces of furniture laid all over the place, covered in thick layers of dust and spiderwebs.

The entirety of the castle’s walls were covered in frenetic, bright red drawings of eyes with stretched cat like pupils. In what must have been the foyer there was a strange sygil carved on the wooden floor and claw marks on the stone walls; deep and violent as if something had been trying to escape.

On the center of the strange sigyl was a dark smudge of what appeared to be soot and ashes.

* * *

 

That night he camped outside the castle, writing on a journal he brought with him to keep record of his findings about The Mindscape, The Nightmare Realm and his travels. So far he had only filled two pages, but he was optimistic and expected to fully fill it before going back home.

As he rested his head on his traveling pouch, he gazed at the sky and wondered what he would find in the Northwest’s old library.

* * *

 

He was trapped inside an empty place where direction was unexistent and time was meaningless.

He was running but he didn’t know why. Was he running away from someone or something? He couldn’t remember. Was he running towards someone or something? He couldn’t tell.

He only knew that he had to run, to keep moving.

Wherever he was silence reigned. And then there was noise.

Faint steps in his direction, and a quiet voice that seemed familiar even though he could not comprehend what it was saying.

In the blink of an eye someone appeared. He froze in place as he recognized the person walking towards him.

Stanley’s hands were tied together with golden shackles, tied in prayer as he mumbled something under his breath. He was completely bare except for a veil made of the same emptiness that surrounded him, a veil that covered his eyes and trailed behind him.

“Stan?”, Ford asked and the sound of his voice was swallowed by the void that surrounded him.

His twin brother did not acknowledge him.

“What are you doing here?”, Ford touched his arm when Stan walked past him. He was cold and touching him sent shivers down his spine.

“Stan?”, he asked again, hoping to get an answer.

Stanley’s mouth slowly moved, he was talking but Stanford could not understand what he was saying. Stan repeated again and again his frenetic prayers, his voice raising in volume until he was shouting.

“Stanley, stop!”, Ford shouted as he grabbed his twin by the shoulders and shook him, hoping to get him out of the trance that had took a hold of him.

Stanley faced upwards, extending his arms over his head, the sudden movement caused Ford to stop shaking him and the veil to slip from his head, uncovering what was underneath it.

Stanley’s eyes were gone, dark burning charcoals grew from the empty sockets. His mouth was still open, still shouting his strange prayer towards the void that was the place where they were standing.

“Stanley? …What happened to you?”, this question finally stopped Stan from his ranted prayers and the silence that followed felt immense.

He looked at him and took his face between his hands. Slowly, ever so slowly, he came close to his ear and whispered…

“You… left… me… alone”

* * *

 

Several days later Ford came back to Stanley as if nothing had ever happened, as if he had never left, tray full of food in hand as usual.

When Stan tried to ask him why he had been gone for so long Ford told him not to worry about it.

He wouldn’t look him in the eye or sit near him, their talk was scarce and forced. Ford left earlier than usual that afternoon.

Stan felt dread clawing and climbing up his throat. He stayed up all night, shaking and staring at the ceiling.

Had he done something wrong?

* * *

 

Stanford kept having nightmares after visiting the abandoned castle. Despite this, Ford did not stop. It became a necessity, an obsession. Inside the decaying mouldy walls, he had found the answers to so many of his questions, he was sure that if he kept looking he’d found everything he had been searching for his whole life.

But the more he looked, the more questions sprung inside his mind and the more his inquiries were left without an answer.

* * *

 

Meanwhile back at the castle Stanley grew bitter as loneliness and grief took root in his heart.

To say that he was frustrated was an understament, because he was absolutely furious… but he also felt confused and distressed to the point of tears. He did not cry. Ford had promised to come back in five days, and two weeks had already passed since his departure.

He was used to being alone. But somehow this —  this, unexpected situation, shocked him till the very core of his being.

Stan was terrified beyond what words could express.

But he did not know what to do besides sit down and wait for his twin.

* * *

 

He was walking on the hallway that led to his brother’s room. A sickening wet sound echoed in the dark and he stopped dead on his tracks as something crawled towards him…

As Stanley crawled towards him.

His lower half had been separated from his body. His intestines and stomach were being dragged along, leaving a murky path behind him. His torso had been stripped of its skin, his ribcage was completely exposed.

“Stanford? …Stanford! Stanford, where are you?”, he cried.

Hands grew from the ceiling and suspended Stanley over him, the cosmos dripped from his ribs and stained him.

“Sta— Stanford…  _please!_ ”, he bellowed in agonizing pain and grief.

“ _Please! Stanford, why aren’t you helping me?_ ”, Stanley yelled as hands broke his ribs and pulled out his lungs and heart, hanging them over Stanford like crowns.

His dying twin looked him in the eye as he started crying.

“You’re not him… you are not my brother”

* * *

 

Stanford became a completely different person. His visits felt less casual and more of an obligation.

He talked little about his findings. He never talked about The Mindscape with Stan ever again. Sometimes he showed off what he had learned on his own about the magic from there and told him about the strange castle and its surroundings, but nothing more.

He never wanted to talk about anything else. As soon as Stanley tried to make conversation he would get up and say he had to go.

Stanley felt hopelessly forsaken. Even though Bill visited every night, he couldn’t help but feel like Stanford had forgotten about him.

* * *

 

“Your brother is clever”

“Tell me something I didn’t know already”

“However his tricks are pathetic! Really, freezing or lifting the water from a lake is as impressive as asking me to take any card”, Bill laughed as he hugged Stan from behind and rested his head on his shoulder.

“He will never be as great as you, my prince”, he kissed Stan’s shoulder.

Stanley felt confused by the conversation, not really knowing what Bill was talking about.

Which he had grown used to. Bill talked about a lot of bizarre and impossible things; things that Stan had only read about in fairytales. Most of the time, Stanley only thought of it as pure nonsense and attributed it to Bill’s eccentric and unique personality.

So he laughed quietly, uncomfortably… and talked about something else.

* * *

 

“The Mindscape’s energy is so much different from the one in our physical realm. I think it might be even more much powerful.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well. I can barely grasp it. I have to concentrate an awful lot for me to be able to do anything with it. And if I hold it for too long it feels like I’m burning from the inside. At the moment I can only take small patches of energy. Although I say that they are small, I was able to lift up a quarter of a lake’s water the other day!”

“You should be careful”, said Fiddleford as he gave him a concerned gaze.

“I’ll be fine”

* * *

 

As his nightmares grew more violent he started avoiding Stanley all together. He couldn’t shake the visions that tormented him at night and seeing his brother was enough to make him remember them.

And so, days would go by with Stanford paying no visit to Stanley.

* * *

 

On the night of his 14th birthday (which he spent alone again, Ford had duties to attend to) Bill kissed him on the lips.

He kept kissing and praising him, calling him things that Ford had never said to him before, Stanley would be lying if he’d said he didn’t like being called those things.

Stanley still believed deep down that he was nothing compared to his twin, but he loved having that; a small chance, a hope that perhaps he could be someone important and special… someone like Stanford.

* * *

 

One night Bill’s hands roamed and caressed his body. Bill’s smooth lips kissed his jaw and his neck. It was a new and strange sensation, it felt… good and at the same time Stan wanted to push Bill away from him, to stop him from continuing.

Bill bit down gently and it felt so good, he couldn’t keep a moan escaping from his throat. Bill’s mouth twitched and he chuckled.

“My, aren’t we eager?”

Afterwards Stan felt ashamed and filthy. Bill had said that there was no reason for Stan to deny that he had fun and that he had clearly enjoyed it.

“You’ll get used to it, prince. It’ll feel better if we do it more often”

Stan didn’t want to. But being touched this way was better than not being touched at all.

* * *

 

He dreamed that Ford was always with him, he talked and pretended he was having an actual conversation with his twin.

And if his fantasy Ford started talking back at him like the real Ford would… well, Stanley wasn’t worried about it. The illusion of company kept the loneliness away, and that was all that mattered to him.

Sometimes he dreamed that Stanford did the same things that Bill did to him; that he said the same sweet nothings on his ear as they kissed and touched each other.

And as morning came and he woke to find it had all been a dream he could not help but feel disappointed.

* * *

 

Many of the books in the Northwest library were heavily damaged by both humidity and age. The dusty bookshelves could collapse at any second but Ford walked among them without fear.

Book after book, he took and read. Many of them described The Nightmare Realm as a prison, many others described it as another world. But Stanford thought that perhaps it was both; and that The Mindscape served as a gate, a way to comunicate both worlds.

He had ended up writing three journals that were filled with these conclusions, notes and theories of what could exist in The Nightmare Realm.

Sometimes he liked to walk and write, as this saved him time and for some reason walking allowed his ideas to flow better.

One day as he was doing this he got so caught up on his writing and collided with an old bookshelf that immediatly brokedown and buried him on books and rotten wood.

* * *

 

There was a girl.

Her silk dress was a rich, deep purple and her hands were covered with long black evening gloves. She had a fur coat but she walked barefoot on the wooden floors. Her blonde hair was loose and a bit messy, behind her a diamond tiara laid forgotten and broken.

Stanford felt like he had seen her before, but he could not recall where or when.

She walked slouched and shivered with cold. She looked at him and he felt a lump on his throat. Her eyes were a clear blue, but they reflected pain and grief; she looked hopeless and Stanford couldn’t help but think that a girl her age shouldn’t have to feel that way.

“Get out”, she said as gold and blood dripped from her open mouth.

“Leave this place”, her blue eyes turning yellow with cat like pupils.

“ ** _You should have stayed with your brother!_** ”, she cackled as fire melted her face off, revealing a shivering black mass of limbs and eyes.

“ ** _You should have stayed with Stanley!_** ”

* * *

 

When he came back to his senses Fiddleford was by his side, fuzzing and reproaching him.

“You knucklehead! You oughta be more careful when you’re in there!”, Fiddleford said as he changed the bandages around his head and arms.

“Shouldn’t you be more respectful towards me? I’m heir to the throne, you know”, Stanford teased him and then hissed as Fiddleford tied a bandage too tight.

“If you’re really to be a king shouldn’t you be more cautious and wise then?”, he said as he left and brought back with him Ford’s traveling bag.

“You’re lucky your journals didn’t get too damaged”, Fiddleford sat down again and showed them to him so he could see that they were unharmed. Except…

“What’s that?”, Ford reached out and pulled out a fourth journal from his bag.

It was bound in black leather with a small incrustation of what appeared to be a diamond and looked as old as the books in the Northwest library.

He was about to flip it open to see what it could have written in, when a sharp pain went through his head. Stanford could not hear over the searing ringing in his ears.

* * *

 

He was back in Stanley’s room. Stan was standing beside his bed with his back on a strange man’s chest.

“Does your brother ever tell you where he goes?”, the man asked as he wrapped his arms around his twin.

“No, he only tells me that he has to go”, Stan answered frowning.

“Hmm, that’s really condescending if you ask me”, the man said as he kissed his brother’s neck, making Stanley’s breath hitch and tiny moans escape his mouth. Stanford felt anger rise up on his gut.

“How so?”, Stanley asked breathless.

“He knows you won’t pressure him into telling you. No matter what he tells you you’ll just accept it as it is and wait for him like a good dog waits for his Master”, Stanley kept silent, not really knowing what to say. Stanford yelled in outrage, offended that this stranger who did not know him would dare to say those things.

“No, I know he doesn’t think that of me”, Stanley thought.

“…Perhaps you’re right”, he said outloud.

Stanford felt guilt and shame. Did his twin really think…? And who was this man? Why was Stanley talking to him?

The man took his twin by the hips and pushed him down, face first, on the bed. Stanley was grabbing at the sheets as the stranger took off Stan’s clothes and touched him in ways that completely mortified Stanford.

For minutes he stood there frozen, watching as his brother moaned and begged for more. He stood there as he saw his brother have sex with a man that was easily 20 years older than him.

He stood there as the man made eye contact and smiled at him.

* * *

 

He awoke again.

* * *

 

“The physical world, our world, is separated from The Nightmare Realm by The Mindscape; a thin veil made of fantasies and dreams that occasionally brush up with The Nightmare Realm and transform them into twisted things.

In this place exist a lot of creatures. Most of them only have one eye. The reason why is something unknown to me and I do not dare look inside that place again.

I did something bad. I made a terrible mistake. I thought I could handle it but I was foolish and arrogant.

I should have never sought the entrance to that terrible place.

It will not matter whether I write down the truth or a bunch of lies, I’ll be dead in a few hours. This is what I know, what I learned from seeking out and finding The Nightmare Realm: Never make a deal with its inhabitants and never trust a man named Bill Cipher, never let him into your mind.

He is not what he seems. He will make you think he’s your friend but he’s not. He will make you mistrust everyone else but him. He will transform you into the shell of a person. The only thing he wants is to gain access to the physical realm so he can seize control of it and become real. He can only do this by making a rift between the veil that separates both worlds.

He is not powerful enough to do this by himself, he needs the power that only certain people in our world could have: twins.

Did you ever wonder why when a woman gives birth to twins the younger of them is killed? It’s simple really. Twins are to be feared. They are bridges from our world onto the next. Twins are an omen of destruction. 

The older sibling represents the physical world, reality. The younger represents the Mindscape, dreams.

As cruel as it may seem. Do not ever let a younger twin live. Kill them as soon as they are born. Bill Cipher must not become real.

Heed my warning.

Princess Pacifica Northwest the I. ”

* * *

 

“Fiddleford”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“I need to go back home”

* * *

 

Knock, knock. Without waiting for a response Ford opened the door and entered Stanley’s room with a tray full of food. Stan was sitting by the window, watching wistfully the ocean. Ford was about to say something when he realized his brother had not noticed his arrival.

Opting not to startle him, he cleared his throat and walked towards him. Stan looked at him and slowly blinked.

“Oh… Ford, I didn’t hear you coming in”, he said as he took the tray from his hands and started eating, “thank you for the food”

Ford sat down on the stool near the desk and watched him eat, growing worried and confused by the second, his brother looked so tired and his face was devoid of color and the usual liveliness he had grown so accostumed of. When did all that go away? 

Stan ate slowly, almost reluctant. He didn’t finish his meal.

“…I’m leaving”, Stanford said after three minutes spent in complete silence. Stan was hardly shocked. He just looked resigned and tired, as if he had already known this was coming. Stan sighed and avoided eye contact with Ford.

“…Where are you going?”

“To find answers”

Stanley kept silent, staring at the tray on his lap. Listening to the words his brother was saying but feeling disconnected from their meaning.

“I have to. It’s my duty”

All of a sudden, as if he had been electrocuted, Stan threw the tray to the wall and stood infront of his shocked brother, his repressed anger and frustration at his twin finally coming up to the surface. His face was scrunched up and red, his mouth set on a firm scowl.

“Don’t you dare give me that crap again!”, Stan said with an accusing finger infront of his brother’s face.

“Everytime you don’t wanna tell me what you’re doing you just use that stupid excuse because you know I’ll just nod along and not question it, and you know what? I’m not going to play the naive sheep part this time!”, he yelled. His hands closing in tight fists as he turned his back at Stanford.

Suddenly feeling exposed Ford scrambled for something to say on his defense, and when he couldn’t, he grew angry.

“Don’t be childish, Stanley”, Ford said in a patronizing tone as he stood as well and crossed his arms behind his back, “I’m being honest! If you don’t want to listen to me and prefer to pout like a child then, by all means, do it! See if I care!”

He walked away, opened the door and stopped short on his steps before leaving.

“It’s time you realized that just because you can spend the whole day painting and sleeping, it doesn’t mean that I can do that too. I have duties! Responsibilities! Obligations! Things I can’t expect you to understand because you’ve never had to deal with them!”

Stanford sighed deeply.

“You’re not like me, Stanley” 

He locked the door behind him.

* * *

 

Stanford was shaking, horrified of what he had just done. Why had he said such terrible things? Could it be that after learning the truth he was not able to see his brother as nothing more than a menace for the existence of his world?

Stanford was scared that brought the implications of that thought.

He did not want to think of Stanley like that.

* * *

 

_He isn’t coming back. He left you alone. He will forget you. You mean nothing to him,_ echoed the voices on the walls.

“We just had a fight. We’ve had them before. Ford will come back, he always does.”

_He didn’t promise to. He said you don’t understand him. He thinks you’ve lived a life of indulgence. He thinks you’re lazy. A burden,_ the voices continued, dripping venom in his mind.

Stan tried to think of something, anything to defend his twin and himself, but his mind was completely blank.

_He’ll lock you and leave you here to rot._

He couldn’t trust the voices. They could be lying. They  _must be_  lying! Stanford would never hurt him. Stanford worries and cares about him!

_Stanford locked the door._

“He didn’t mean to! He was angry and hadn’t been thinking when he did that!”

_Stanford left and locked the door._

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about me anymore”

_Stanford has never cared._

“He does! He —”

**_STANFORD DOESN’T CARE! STANFORD LIKES TO SEE HIM LOCKED AWAY!_ **

“…”

_Bill cares._

“…”

_Bill loves him. Bill says such sweet things to him. Bill does things that make him feel good. Bill will help him get out._

“Bill cares”

* * *

 

It was dark and formless. It was trapped inside a sygil carved on the floor.

Six eyes opened and watched him in terror as flames consumed its body.

Six arms scrambled and clawed at the walls, leaving smoking marks on them.

Six mouths opened and screamed, pleading for mercy, asking for forgiveness.

And he watched emotionless.

“Please, don’t do this! This -  _This isn’t me!_ ”, its voices gurgled as it slowly died, as it burned alive. Six desperate eyes focused on him;  **him** , its killer, its… 

 “Bro…ther!  _Please!_ ”

* * *

 

Stanford woke up breathless. Cold sweat drops slid down his spine and forehead.

Something bad had happened. Something wrong. He put on a robe and went out of his room.

* * *

 

“You’re more powerful than him, more powerful than anybody”

A deep breath.

“…Bill, are you real?”

A smile.

“Not where you are, but I could be”

“…”

A sigh.

“What do I have to do?”

A twisted and menacing smile. A kiss. A claw that pierced through his chest and pulled out his golden beating heart.

“Become like me”

* * *

 

Stanford ran as fast as he could through the castle, not caring about the ruckus and noise he was making. He had to make sure Stanley was safe.

As he crossed the hallway that lead to his brother’s room a blood curdling scream made him falter on his steps.

“Stanley!”, he yelled as he threw his body against the door, again and again, trying to open it.

He should not have locked it.

* * *

 

Something snapped inside him.

He screamed as his grip on reality slipped away. He could feel his body melding together; growing and growing. His mouth expanded and twisted around his face, his teeth became fangs.

Someone was banging on the door and he could lightly make out the voice of a person that seemed to be calling out his name.

His eyes became pure light, opened and for the first time in his life he could understand.

He could understand why he was in the room.

He went through the window and walked out on the air. His every step making tremble the fearsome and powerful sea that he respected. The waves violently crashed against one another and parted as he hovered over them.

He was never real.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford searches for a way to save his brother on the old Northwest library and learns about the past of Pacifica Northwest I. Stanley is free from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has extreme body horror, like some really fucked up body horror, please be careful if you’ve got insectophobia.

Stanford tried desperately to open the door. He tried to kick it down and to use his magic to rot the wood on it, but the door remained the same.

And then a great noise came upon the castle. A deep rumble of something waking up; roaring, coming back to life.

_Prince Stanford Filbrick Pines_ , a thousand voices screamed out his name in anger and glee.

_Locked the door! You locked the door!,_ a thousand voices screeched and laughed.

Stanford ran away, deciding to go look for his parents first and then find a way to save Stanley.

He came to a halt as he arrived to the hallway that lead to the servant quarters. They were all standing in their rooms with the doors opened. They all had candles on their hands and an empty look on their faces.

_Locked the door! You locked the door!_ , a thousand voices screamed in cheer and betrayal.

As Stanford ran he saw as the servants’ faces changed; their eyes becoming yellow with a bone chilling smile that shifted to glowing gray eyes and grief filled frowns.

_Locked the door! You locked the door!_ , a thousand voices screamed a final time as the servants set ablaze to themselves, exploding into laughter and moans of pain.

They did not try to follow or harm him. They stood perfectly motionless in their frenetic states until they collapsed from the fire and even then Stanford swore he could still hear the burnt corpses laughing and sobbing.

* * *

 

Hallways became rooms and rooms became castles. The open sky at the tip of his fingers, the deep of the sea at the sole of his feet.

Wrapped up on an endless unreality, Stanley walked outside for the first time in his life. Stan could not feel the sand beneath him, the sea water did not touch him, but he knew it was there and that was enough to make him feel more alive than he had ever felt.

He walked unseen over the water and everything alive inside it swam away in fear. Stanley reached out and he saw himself on the abyss of the ocean looking back towards the blue sky.

It all seemed like a dream.

“No, this is not a dream”, Bill said outloud as Stan kept walking towards a stairway in the middle of the sea that seemed to go nowhere.

“This is just not reality”, Stan barely acknowledged him, entranced by the stairs and their golden gleam.

“Where does this go?”, he asked as he touched its rail.

“Wherever you want to go”, Bill answered as his form shifted and transformed, but Stanley did not see him, he didn’t care about Bill.

“Go on, use it”, Bill’s distorted voice echoed behind him, his laughter a shrill that Stan no longer recognized.

Stan’s feet touched the stairs and he was instantly transported into a place he did not distinguish.

* * *

 

A throne room covered in sharp black and white contrasts and golden reflections. A man he had never met was sitting high above him, his eyes covered by shadows and yet his gaze was stern and disapproving.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”, he asked as the room moved around and Stan found himself staring from far, far below the man sitting on the throne.

“I don’t know”, Stan answered as he walked towards him.

“Do not get near me”, the man yelled.

“Haven’t you seen yourself on a mirror? You are digusting! How dare you turn up to the King looking like that!”, he said with an accusing finger pointing directly to his face.

“Get out of here, you grotesque monster!”, he ordered as knights and guards came out of the shadows and surrounded Stanley.

“You are… the King of the Glass Shard Kingdom, Filbrick from the Pines Royal Family?”, Stan asked in disbelief as he looked up at the cold and stern face of the man infront of him.

“Yes”, he answered shortly.

Stanley stared at the man; at  **his father** , unable to believe what he had just heard.

“Out of my sight, you disgusting creature!”, he commanded.

Stan became blurry, his form broke and shifted as conflicting emotions surfaced. The monochrome room was engulfed by blue flames as Stan screamed in rage and changed infront of Filbrick’s eyes.

He was huge and powerful. Stan destroyed the room and left only the throne in which Filbrick was still sitting on, looking up in fear as Stan towered over him and opened his thousand eyes, focused solely on him.

“ _ **You**_ ”, he gurgled as gold dripped down his enormous mouth and into the abyss below.

“ _ **It’s all your fault!**_ ”

Needles pricked and ripped Filbrick’s skin as Stan repeated his accusation over and over again. Needles buried under his skin and pierced his bones as Stan’s form shifted; melting and transforming into something else.

Gold and blue flames melted off his skin and left exposed the muscle and needles under it. He could feel them moving inside his eyes and bloodstream. He hunched over and started to vomit, he could feel himself gagging on them.

Stanley looked as he slowly died, as the needles inside his body killed him.

* * *

 

Stanford felt a massive headache. He was near his parents’ bedroom when he heard his mother scream. Heart pounding, eyes burning, he opened the door and saw a horrible scene right infront of him.

The sheets on the bed were completely drenched in blood. His father’s face and body a revolting pulp covered in needles and melted gold.

He heard a gasp behind him and turned around in time to see Fiddleford hunch over and struggle not to vomit. His mother ran towards him and gripped his arm.

“Stanford! We need — We need to get out of here”, she said in a shakey voice as she took his face between her hands and made him look into her eyes.

Splat, splat.

Something was moving in the hallway. Something that reeked of rotten meat. It was an enormous thing, with arms for feet and glowing gray eyes.

“ _Come out, come out. Wherever you are_ ”, it sing-songed in a distorted voice.

Stanford created a wall of solid rock between them and the monster. He took his best friend’s and mother’s hand and broke down walls to get faster outside.

They ran towards the stables and each mounted the first horse they could find. They rode away as fast as they could and didn’t dare to look back.

* * *

 

They decided to go back to the Northwest Castle. It took them three nights in which they barely slept, scared that they’d die in their dreams like the King had. When they finally arrived they were shaking and completely exhausted. 

They settled down in the library and Stanford began to read Princess Pacifica’s diary again, hoping to find more answers in its yellow, decaying pages.

* * *

 

Enormous hands raked over the Kingdom and woke its inhabitants with nightmares. Some screamed and hid, some hurt each other and themselves. Others never woke up again.

Charcoals grew from their empty sockets, burning away their minds.

Stanley overshadowed the sun, high above he looked down on them and breathed in the smoke and ashes that remained of their bodies.

“My Prince”, Bill breathed in his ear and Stanley shrinked and held tight to him.

“Two of your captors are still out there”, he said and Stan shivered.

“ _ **Why not pay them a visit?**_ ”

* * *

 

“ _Monday 1st of the Second Harvest. Year of the Falling Star._

_There have been war on the Northern Kingdoms since the year began. Father says not to worry, that our allies are strong and that we are even stronger._

_I fear not for my Kingdom and I certainly fear not for my life. I will never submit to the tyrany of men lesser than me._

_Father does not believe me when I tell him that I can do magic like my brother. He hushes me and says to bite my tongue as if my abilities were blasphemy against my own brother’s strength._

_But father does not want to hear about what I can do, what I’ve learned to do because of **him**. The_ _tall man with dark skin and rich curls in an eccentric suit and hat. I can picture perfectly his eyes that shine like amber and his too wide smile._

_I was never afraid of him._

_He taught me how to use my magic, how to create invisible worlds and how to affect the waking world…”_

* * *

 

Stanford read page after page, barely sleeping and struggling to understand the many spells and magic that the diary described. They were not safe in their sleep, that much he knew.

Fiddleford tried to keep them healthy by visiting the village near the abandoned castle and buying provisitions for them. They had to sell the horses to survive, and even though they had gotten good money for them, they knew it wouldn’t last more than a few weeks.

Stanford insisted on Fiddleford to ask and investigate about the Northwest Castle and what had happened to the family that had been living in it. For some reason Stanley’s power could not reach where they were, but he knew it was just a matter of time.

He was scared and paranoid, doing everything in his power to keep them all awake but his magic had limits.

One day the Queen fell asleep. And he had never been more afraid in his life.

* * *

 

The queen’s Mindscape was a red garden with golden roses growing near a fountain in the center of it. She was sitting, weeping and mourning outloud for her children.

This was the first time Stan had ever seen his mother…

She was beautiful and her whole being glowed with kindness and a softness that Stan never knew.

“My child… My Stanley”, the Queen said around the lump on her throat as she saw him standing behind a bush.

“I am sorry… for everything you’ve had to endure”, her tears splattered on the floor and left a silver mark that spiralled and shifted in form. Stanley felt a pang on his chest, a burning sensation of something he could not understand.

She stood up and slowly walked towards him, Stan felt the need to stay away from her.

“What has become of you?”, she said completely heart broken as she kneeled and took his face with both her hands.

He couldn’t take it anymore; her kindness and softness too much for him to handle, he couldn’t face her; her honesty and love too pure.

He felt like a stain infront of her, she who was not clean of remorsement and guilt, but, nonetheless she never sought to harm him in any way. She, his mother, who was forgiving and loving, who tried to look him in the eye even though he had murdered his own father, her husband.

She still wanted him to be loved. She wanted him to be safe. She wanted him… to be her son. But he couldn’t stand the feeling of her warmth. Even if she was his mother and this should have felt right…

For him, she was a complete stranger…

A complete stranger that could have loved him, could have given him a better life; a life without solitude and confinement. As these thoughts lingered on his head, his righteous anger came back. He was getting ready to strike a punishment on the woman who could have saved him a life of grief and loneliness when she looked him in the eyes and embraced him.

“Do what you must, my Stanley”, she caressed his cheek.

“I have not been a good mother”, more tears fell from her eyes as she kissed his forehead.

“I have failed to protect you”

* * *

 

The Queen woke up once again and spent the rest of her days inside the abandoned castle in pensive silence and quiet sobbing.

* * *

 

_Why didn’t you destroy her?_ , the voices on the walls said as he walked on the castle’s halls and over the servant corpses that littered them. Strange creatures ate them and Stanley tried to look away as they munched on the rotten meat.

_Why let her live? She’s just as guilty as he was_ , they said full of anger. Stan kept walking, not even once minding the abominations that roamed the castle. He entered the throne room and stood there.

_Whywhywhywhywhy?_ , they whispered harshly as one creature sitting in a corner screeched. Its only eye was crying, its twisted claws scratching its own face. Stanley stared as it tried to move, collapsing under the weight of its unusually big head. He walked towards it.

_What are you doing?_ , they said as he approached and it gazed at him with terror evident on its face. He touched it gently and cleaned its tears.

_Stop that!_ , they yelled in anger as he kissed its head.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured and it disappeared… Leaving behind a butterfly that flew away towards the light outside. Stan tried to stretch his hand and catch it, but stopped himself and looked around at his surroundings. He recognized the room but he had never really set foot on it. He felt like an intruder.

He walked aimlessly, touching the walls and trying to imagine what could have been and now and forever never was.

_What are you doing?_ , they said again and Stanley was suddenly face to face with his room’s door. He was shaking, he was aware of Bill’s eyes piercing through his back.

“What are you doing?”, Bill repeated and took his face between his hands.

“I didn’t want this”, he choked out as his tears touched the ceiling and formed a mirror. Stan looked up and saw himself; a repulsive being made of shadow. His six eyes blinked slowly and his six mouths opened in a silent scream.

Bill waved his hand and the mirror turned into gold but it did not turn his reflection into something beautiful.

“I want to go home”, and Bill watched him go back into the room. His head hung low, two of his hands covering it and the others still touching the walls.

The door closed again and Bill..

Bill couldn’t help the laugh that escaped past his lips.

* * *

 

_“…_ _I should have been afraid of him. I should have known better than to trust Bill Cipher._

_He knows your deepest fears, he knows how to use them against you. He knows how to get inside your head and what sweet nothings you dream of hearing. He knows EVERYTHING._

_The All Seeing Eye has been watching me all my life and I was never aware. He was the whispers in the walls. He was the nightmares. He was the wishful thinking, the harsh words and desperation to be free._

_He was my everything and I was never aware… until now._

_He made me who and what I am; and I’m.. I’m no longer myself._

_I thought I could control him but I was never in control.”_

* * *

 

“Stanford?”, Fiddleford walked into the library only to find his friend hunched over and gripping tightly the diary. He was shaking. Fiddleford touched his shoulder in a comfort manner and Stanford flinched back.

“Stanford, come, you need to eat something”, he said gently as he took him by the elbow and led him towards the room where they were all staying.

As they ate in silence Fiddleford couldn’t help but think that they all looked exhausted beyond words. That night Stanford went back to the library with Fiddleford and asked him if he had discovered anything about the Northwests.

“It has been so long since they ruled this land”, Fiddleford said as he fidgeted in the decrepit library.

“So long that no one really remembers them. All they know are legends and myths that have been told from generation to generation”, Ford kept turning the pages of the diary, even though he had read the thing a thousand times.

“They say that the prince and princess were twins”, and at that Ford stopped abruptly and stood frozen.

“That this castle has a curse on it. Haunted by the ghost of the princess…”, Fiddleford said carefully, afraid.

“Who was killed by her own brother, the prince”, he finished and the silence that followed was overpowering.

Light poured from Stanford’s hands like water.

“I know what to do now”, he said as he looked at the light weaving through his fingers.

* * *

 

Red delicate ribbons danced across his torso and down onto the floor. Stanley couldn’t stop screaming. His ribs like gold shone against the light.

“You can’t die by your own hand”, Bill teased as Stanley took the knife out from his chest and threw it against a wall.

“Why….”, he was furious, six hands clawed at his face as he desperately tried to understand.

“Because they didn’t kill you when they had the chance!”, he laughed cruelly.

* * *

 

They lit candles around the sigyl on the foyer. Stanford collected ingredients from around the castle’s grounds and abandoned rooms. On each of the candles he put anise seeds, lavender and bay leaves for protection.

Before the ritual took place, Stanford took his mother outside and sat her by a fire.

“Stay here until we return”, he gently placed a shawl around her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“If we don’t come out before dawn…. run”, he finished as he left her.

Back in the castle, Fidds had completed drawing more protection sigyls around and was waiting anxiously by the door.

Light poured from his hands as he walked around the big sigyl and chanted words in various strange languages. Fiddleford watched, terrified and curious, unsure of what to do.

“Princess Pacifica….”, Ford said as his voice echoed on the foyer, a second voice repeating his words. The shadows around them seemed darker and longer, it seemed like the rest of the castle had disappeared and only now this room existed. Fidds shuddered as a chill ran down his spine as he watched Stanford’s eyes turn completely white.

“Wake up”

* * *

 

Silence and darkness. 

And then an explosion of light followed by screams.

Silence and darkness again.

Fiddleford was horror-struck, he couldn’t move and he didn’t dare to even breathe. He was shaking and ready to bolt out of the room at any moment, but curiosity and concern kept him there.

He feared for his prince and friend. He feared for what could happen next.

Something moved on the center of the sigyl. It made a noise like a broken machinery being rebuilt. It looked like a human being but moved in erratic spasms. Fidds didn’t know what to make of it.

The candles all lit on their own again and he was able to see what it was.

A statue of a beautiful young woman stood with its limbs shattered and its face covered in soot and ashes. Its face had a fierce expression, even though it had no eyes.

“Princess Pacifica Northwest, I come here seeking your wisdom”, Stanford bowed and talked like when he was in the company of royalty.

“Foolish”, the statue hissed and it seemed like its lips changed into a smile, meaningless and vindictive.

“I am Prince Stanford Filbrick Pines of the Glass Shard Kingdom”, Ford watched her catiously as she moved her broken arms.

“Oh, to what do I owe this pleasure? What do you wish to know?”, Pacifica asked as four arms appeared behind her and moved about on their own.

“…My brother. My twin, he needs help. I have reasons to believe that he was tricked by the man named Bill Cipher”

An angry screech resounded through the halls as Pacifica’s arms moved in anger and started hitting the ground so hard that it cracked under the blows.

“ ** _That cursed name! That cursed name!_** ”, she yelled in a guttural and barely human voice.

“ ** _That cursed, hellish name! He is no human, he is nothing but a disgusting liar and a demon!_** ”, she hissed as her hollow gaze searched the halls of her home.

“Cipher has been looking for centuries for a younger twin to open the gate so he could bring nightmares to our world, he won’t give up easily now that he found one. You stupid prince… Your brother has no salvation. He was doomed since the day he was born”, her voice went down to a miserable whisper as a black fluid started to pour down her empty sockets.

“Tell me how to save him”, Ford spoke softly but shook with anger. His face was flushed and he looked like he might attack the statue at any moment.

“You can’t save him from what and who he is! The only way to close the gate is to kill your twin”, Pacifica spat. The eyes on the walls pierced his back and made him feel watched.

“I can’t kill him, he’s my brother”, Ford said determined but Pacifica only laughed.

“Would you really sacrifice both worlds for the sake of family?”, her question made him hesitate long enough that he knew that he couldn’t lie to her. His eyes shifted to the ground.

“Cipher is watching. Kill him when you get the chance”, she spoke a final time as the statue combusted into flames, revealing for a fraction of a second… a monster. A creature made of shadow with six blank eyes and six arms.

She disappeared in a white light and left behind nothing but ashes.

* * *

 

Stanford let himself fall on his knees. He cried out in anger and exhaustion, worn out from the days he spent trying to find an answer. Ford stayed quiet, breathing heavily, attempting to think of another way to solve everything, a way to save Stanley.

“I never knew you had a twin brother…”, Fiddleford said in a hush, nervous and unsure of what to say.

“His name is Stanley”, Ford spoke without looking back at him.

“I… I never saw him around…”

A heavy silence loomed and Fiddleford, hesitant, walked towards Stanford.

“He lived isolated in a secret room… On the deepest part of the castle”, Ford’s answer froze him where he stood.

“…He never spoke with anyone but me”, Ford said in a shaky voice.

“What have we done?”, he asked to no one as tears rolled down his cheeks.

He cried for a long time, Fiddleford staying beside him, comforting him and learning about Stanley.

“You know…”, Stanford hiccuped and cleaned his snot on his sleeve, throwing out the window his royal manners.

“The first time I spoke with him I was only six years old. He was really small and he behaved strange… He walked like a dog, on all fours. He couldn’t really talk and he was scared of a lot of things. Stanley didn’t understand a lot of what I said but I could tell… He felt safe with me”, Ford closed his eyes and smiled at the memories.

“Eventually, he learned how to speak, walk and eat like a normal human being. But now that I think about it… I don’t think he ever had human contact before that”, he said, horrified by the thought but he knew it made sense.

“He was alone and desolate… I was too self-absorbed to notice at the time”

* * *

 

That night the silence that surrounded the abandoned forest felt heavy and otherworldly, as if everyone knew what had happened and what would have to be done. They all sat together around a fire, each one distracted by their own frantic thoughts.

“I remember nights like these back at home”, the Queen spoke in a whisper, her voice hoarse after spending days without using it.

“Sometimes I could not sleep knowing that he lived and slept right underneath me”, tears were starting to form on her eyes but she did not cry. Both Stanford and Fiddleford stayed quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her thought.

“On those nights, I swear, I could hear him talk to me… Asking me over and over again why I had forsaken him…. My youngest child”, her throat closed with a knot that would not let her even swallow, she gasped and tried to breathe. Stanford hugged her.

“When I gave birth to you… I was so happy, I felt I’d live forever like that, with both of you safely in my arms. I could not believe what the priests said to me… That my younger was cursed, that he would doom us and our souls if we did not kill him.

“But I could not kill him”, she said weakly as her tears hit the ground.

“How could I allow them to destroy my baby after I had already embraced him, felt his small hands grasp mine? I could not bear the thought of them hurting either of you… So I kept him in secret…

“I-I never wanted that life for him… But it was the only way I could have my boy alive and safe… Your father realized what I had done sooner rather than later, and he locked us both on my room, away from your brother. 

“He intended to starve him to death…. after a week he finally let us out. I ran and almost fell down the stairs as I rushed to see what had become of my baby… But when I arrived to the room… He was on his crib…. Pale, quiet and unmoving…

“He looked so peaceful. Crying, I touched his cheek. And it was as if he had suddenly come alive, as if he had merely been sleeping. He opened his eyes and smiled, happy to see me. I could not believe what I saw… A healthy baby after a week of not being fed or taking care of.

“I thought him a miracle. A blessing… Your father said he was a demon. A curse. He said it was my fault that now he could not die, that I was to blame if the whole kingdom was swallowed by Hell and doomed to eternal damnation.

“But I saw his future… And I saw a glimpse of hope, of laughter and happy days spent with you”, she said looking at Stanford through her tears.

“And I thought… If you could love him then he was not a monster, he was not a curse nor a demon.

“It was not the fact that he was born the youngest twin that doomed him to what he is now,  but that we did not love him as we should have”, her grief echoed on the grounds of the abandoned castle.

* * *

 

Smoke poured out of his eyes and towards the endless void that had become the sky. Stanley’s hands moved in spasms as they kept drawing strange shapes on the air.

Beneath his feet the earth turned itself out and changed to black marble. He wore a black dress, a gold lace veil consealed his face as he walked through a million places all at once.

“Why can’t I die?”, he asked as Bill took his hand and kissed it.

“Who says you were ever alive?”, they stopped on a snowy mountain. Stanley’s arms changing the snow to gemstone.

“I hate your answers”, he grumbled as Bill smiled and hugged him from behind.

“I hate them too”, Bill laughed as Stan’s six arms caressed his face.

“This world is ours to do with as we please”, his greedy yellow eyes shone as he observed it all, his smile stretching further and further.

“I don’t want to give you this world”, Stan replied and Bill immediately pressed a hand against his throat. Stan remained calm and indifferent, his eyes looking with sorrow to the world that was changing because of him.

“Be careful, prince. I might have helped you, but make no mistake; ** _you are mine and you do as I please_** ”

He never graced the skin beneath his palm as Stan screeched and attacked him viciously. His hands turning into claws and ripping apart easily the body of the other man. Stan’s eyes became feral, unstable.

“I am not yours”, he hissed as he took with two hands Bill’s surprised face.

“ **I was never going to be yours** ”, he kissed the still open eye and then bit it off its socket. Smiling in satisfaction as Bill screamed and begged him to stop.

“ **If I can’t die, I might as well kill you** ”, Stan finished as he crushed the very existence of Bill Cipher under his fists.

* * *

 

He walked back to his room. The dress and veil disappearing from his body, leaving him dressed in his plain and familiar clothes.

“If I can’t die then I won’t take others lives”, he whispered as the castle crumbled under his presence and the Kingdom returned to its former self.

The castle twisted and changed, unable to completely turn everything back the way it was, Stanley lied down on the ground of his room and let himself close his eyes.

“This is just a nightmare… When I wake up everything will be as it was”, he said as everything around shaped itself to his mind and body.

* * *

 

The treck back home was hard and left him feeling cold all over. Decaying corpses were strewn all over the streets, their sockets were empty and their faces contorted in pain and horror. Those that survived could barely talk, they were afraid of everything and seemed to just want to forget.

Some of them recognized them as the prince and queen, but none of them cared. All of them stayed far away and watched them with careful eyes through the debris.

The castle was completely in ruins, pieces of it floating towards the sky and the construction of it twisted all over the place.

“What will you do, your Highness?”, Fiddleford asked, suddenly formal and looking horrified at what had happened to their home.

Stanford patted him on the back and gave him a wobbly smile.

“I’m going to save him”

* * *

 

Endless hallways with infinite doors loomed over him. Ford had once felt confident that he knew the castle like the back of his hand, but now he wasn’t even sure if he was walking towards the left or right.

It was the same hallway, the one outside Stan’s room, it repeated itself over and over again. Spider-like creatures crawled on the walls, their eyes following him as he tried to make sense of the place he was in.

* * *

 

Deciding to go for it, Stanford opened a door and walked right into a room full of six fingered hands.

All of them stopped as he moved inside. Ford felt self-conscious as he watched the hands that looked like they could be his.

Suddenly, he heard a whisper to his left and saw Stan walk towards them.

The hands caressing his face and body, making him moan as they touched his erection. Stan shuddered and made eye contact with him.

“I always wanted you”, he said as he watched Stanford with lust and a devotion that Ford had never seen on his twin’s face. He came with a groan and tears started to spill from his eyes.

“I wanted to be yours”, the hands kept touching him ruthlessly, tugging his hair and scratching his skin, leaving red marks all over his body. Many of them tried to get their fingers inside his mouth. Saliva coating Stan’s face as he kept being toyed about by the hands on the walls.

“ **Did you ever wanted the same?** ”

Stanford stumbled back the way he entered the room and closed the door feeling breathless. Unable to get the image of his twin getting pleasured from his head.

His face red with shame as he noticed his erection.

* * *

 

The next room had broken glass pieces all over the floor that crunched beneath his feet as he carefully made his way inside.

“Stanley?”, he asked, hoping to get an answer.

Instead a creature crawled out of the shadows. Its stench was so powerful Ford made a gagging sound and covered his face. The noise catched the creatures attention and made it crawl towards him.

It was Stanley. He walked on all fours and his limbs seemed twisted, his expression was animal like and he bared his teeth at him.

“Stan?”, Ford looked horrified as his brother screamed and tackled him to the ground.

His teeth were sharp and threatened to bite him. Like a beast he sniffed his hair and inspectioned him with mistrust.

“It’s me, Ford”, he said on a whisper.

“I know who you are”, Stan answered with a growl. His nails were filthy and overgrown, making it seem more like claws than human fingers.

“ **What made you so special that I was the one that had to live in isolation?** ”, he yelled at him and then scurried off, picking up glass from the ground.

“I don’t understand!”, he yelled as he further destroyed the room he was in.

* * *

 

Stanford ran on the maze of hallways, unsure of where to go and which door to open.

He took a risk and opened one that seemed more normal than the others.

Inside it there was light, an open field that led towards an abysmal blue ocean, and infront of it Stanley watched quietly.

His limbs were separated from his body, like a dismantled doll. From his eyes small, round and white bugs crawled out and fell on the sand. Stan kept staring at the ocean, indifferent at their presence.

Stanford’s breath stopped as he walked as silently as possible, not wanting to attract his attention, since that had… been troubling on the past.

Stan’s head suddenly moved and stared at him, the white insects kept crawling down. Ford’s heart was violently beating inside his ribcage, looking at this person, who could or could not be his brother. He took a deep, shaky breath.

“…S-stanley?”, he dared to ask.

His brother’s eyes opened and his indiferrent expression changed to one of distress and panic. He made a low hissing sound as if his lungs had failed to function. Doubled in pain as the white bugs started to crawl out from his body, leaving small circular dents on Stanley’s skin.

“ **Did you ever truly wanted me?** ”

Stanford ran away as the version of his brother fell apart. Leaving only white bugs returning to the sea.

* * *

 

Stanford ran frantic through the hallways, no longer caring on approaching the situation logically. He wanted to find his brother. Painful yearning consumed away his last bits of logic and he started to open and close doors at random.

“Stanley! Where are you?”, he yelled and collapsed on his knees.

Through his tired eyes he saw a door appear underneath him.

It opened and he fell.

* * *

 

Stanley was sitting in a golden throne, in a grey room surrounded by six people who looked like him. His eyes looked hazed and unfocused on his head rested a dark crown.

“You’re so strong”, one of them said and the others echoed.

“You’re so amazing”, one of them said and the others echoed.

“I will never leave you”, one of them said and the others echoed.

“You’re so special”, one of them said and the others echoed.

“Stanley? Is that you?”, he said and they fell silent.

His eyes opened and looked at Ford like he was a stranger. Stan’s face morphed and twisted. Six eyes, six mouths opened and breathed fire over him.

“ _ **You are not welcome here!**_ ”, he yelled as six arms grew from his body.

“Locked the door, you locked the door!”, the fake Stanfords yelled at the same time and looked at him with expressions filled with loathing and rage.

Stanford was grabbed by two hands made of fire. Their heat burning his skin and making him hiss.

“I’m sorry”, he said but he knew it was weak and not quite what he wanted to say to his brother.

“ ** _You are not welcome here!_** ”, Stanley repeated and slammed him twice on the floor before releasing him.

“You are cruel! You are disgusting! You are selfish!”, the fake Stanfords echoed and formed a barrier between him and Stanley. Their accusing eyes glowing yellow, their mouths growing with a vile, unnaturally wide smile.

“Stanley doesn’t want you here! Stanley hates you!”, they continued as he groaned in pain. Stanford had a broken rib and his nose was bleeding profusely. Through the ringing in his head he stood up and walked towards his brother.

The fake Stanfords grabbed him and grew as tree branches around him, accusing and insulting him, their stares piercing through his soul.

“Stanley..”, he called out, weak and desperate. If he was to die here, he would die telling the truth.

“I love you”

* * *

 

With a roar he launched himself across the room and clawed at Stanford’s chest. With his teeth he gripped the flesh and tore it away. Thick gold dripped from his mouth and eyes.

“ ** _Go away! Go away!_** ”, he screamed in desperation.

“I love you”, Ford kept saying, over and over again. He embraced his brother and murmured his love onto his ever shifting form.

“Stop”, Stanley sobbed.

The grey vision of his brother’s Mindscape slowly died away, as two heads grew from Stanley’s body and bit him, six arms clawed at his back and disappeared. Stanley crumbled and melted and froze and burned while screaming in agony. Stanley hugged him back and sobbed on his chest while mumbling apologies.

“I can save you”, Stanford begged, perfectly knowing that he couldn’t.

Stanley pressed their lips together as Stanford’s dagger went though his heart. Stanford kissed his forehead and held him tightly. 

“I love you”, Stan said in a whisper.

They both shared a kiss and stood frozen in that moment as the worlds around them separated and exploded in colors. 

A whimper escaped Stan’s lips as red poured out and stained his shirt. And then, as sudden as a blink, Stan sighed and became still.

Like a statue.

Stanley’s eyes closed as if he were merely going to sleep as he smiled for the last time.

**His hands set together around the dagger in his chest.**

And slowly, their world returned to its former self. Stanford felt the shift as the heaviness inside his mind eased and everything mounstrous returned into The Nightmare Realm.

* * *

 

The castle’s garden was in ruins, all the flowers dead or turned to ashes. The walls surrounding it crumbled and most of the ground was covered in debris. He breathed in and out, unable to process that he was indeed in the real world.

Stanford stood in shock infront of his twin. Touching him, hoping to feel skin, but feeling only cold marble.

“Stanley….”

He joined their foreheads together, tears rolled down his cheeks and onto the floor. His shoulders were shaking as he tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered in defeat and shame at the face of the statue that had been cursed forever to live dreaming of freedom and love.

“I really am”, he finally allowed himself to grieve and weep the death of the person who loved him most.

* * *

 

It was a summer day and the waves clashed against the castle, the sound was comforting and familiar. A young boy ran on the halls, looking nervous and anxious at all directions.

“Mabel!”, he yelled over and over again as he ran.

“Mabel, answer me right now! This is not funny!”

He almost tripped as he was climbing down the stairs unto the castle’s garden.

“There you are!”, he sighed exasperated as he spotted his twin sitting under a tree.

She had a book on her lap and her rosy cheeks gave her an air of innocence even though her eyes were mischevious.

“Sorry, Dipper”, she said a bit ashamed as he sat alongside her.

“It’s almost time for our Astrology lessons and you know Uncle doesn’t like it when we are late”, Dipper flicked her nose and she snorted as she punched his arm.

“Bah! You know he doesn’t mind, Uncle loves us”, Mabel answered nonchalant as she closed her book and stared ahead of her.

“Another romance novel?”, Dipper pretended to gag as Mabel laughed at his reaction.

“Shut up, at least mine are better than  _ **your**_  romance novels! In yours all the heroines are always redheads”, she laughed as her brother blushed and stuttered a negative response.

They sat quietly for a while as Mabel kept staring straight ahead. Dipper followed her line of vision and winced as he saw what she was seeing.

“Why do you obsess over that statue?”, he asked.

“…He seems lonely”, Mabel answered after a long pause.

The statue of the young man with a dagger in its chest and a sad smile, covered in red roses and forget-me-nots. 

It had scared the wits out of Dipper when he was a small child. He tried to avoid crossing infront of it and he always looked the other way when he couldn’t. He often dreamed of it, talking and moving like a person. It spoke in a gentle gruff voice. He always woke with the sensation that it had not been a dream at all. Almost like it had been real.

“Besides, Stan seems like a good person”, Mabel continued as she smiled in the statue’s direction.

“Stan?”, Dipper furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his twin with curiosity.

“That’s his name”, she beamed at him.

“Did you name it?”, he asked unbelieving of the often strange things Mabel did sometimes.

“Not really”, she answered with a grimace.

“Uncle told me his name when I urged for it”, she concluded.

“That’s bizarre, why would he name the statue like him?”, confused, he looked at Mabel, who had the same expression on her face.

“They don’t actually share a name… The statue’s name is Stanley”, she said and they both suddenly felt a shiver down their spine as the summer air turned cold around them.

“Oh no! I forgot we were already late to our Astrology lesson!”, Dipper stood up abruptly and helped Mabel up too, taking her hand and running along the garden.

“I hope Uncle doesn’t get mad”, he muttered under his breath anxiously.

“He never does”, Mabel rolled her eyes and smiled at him as she ran faster and all but dragged him towards the library.

“I bet he will laugh at us and shake his head”, she laughed.

She looked behind her towards the garden and stopped without warning as she saw a young man running after them with a smile on his face. Dipper ran into her and they both fell to the floor.

“What happened?”, Dipper asked as they got up and dusted their clothes.

“Nothing, I thought I saw someone…”, she muttered and took his hand again. Both of them walking calmly now.

“It was probably Fiddleford on his way to the foyer or Wendy about to trim the trees”, he said, deciding to shrug off what Mabel said.

“Yes, probably…”

 


End file.
